Fate's Bet: My Unwanted Tycoon Husband

From Gilded Cage To Unchained Queen

To save my dying father, I made a deal with the billionaire Christopher Kirkland. I became his secret, a bird in a gilded cage he paraded around when it suited him. But I was just a pawn in his twisted game to win back his ex-girlfriend. He proved it when he publicly outbid me for my own mother's heirloom necklace, only to gift it to her right in front of me. Then he threw me out of the penthouse. My few cherished belongings-my books, a photo of my parents-were tossed out. "Chaney doesn't like clutter," he told me, erasing my entire existence for her. A text on his phone confirmed the brutal truth. "Our little game is working perfectly," she'd written. "She's completely fooled." Years later, after she betrayed him and his empire nearly crumbled, he came back begging. He thought he could buy my forgiveness. He was about to learn that my freedom had no price tag.

No Second Chance For Us

For five years, I was tech billionaire Alden Maxwell' s secret. A pretty accessory on his arm, a deal I made to save my father' s life. I played my part, quietly planning my escape for the day our contract ended. But then his first love, Amanda, came back. At a lavish auction, he spent ten million dollars to outbid me for my own mother' s heirloom bangle, only to place it on Amanda' s wrist, calling it a "token of his undying affection." Later, he told me I was just practice. A "little bird" he could use to learn how to be gentle before he went back to his true love. That' s when the last of my foolish hope died. I was never a person to him, just a transaction he could buy and discard. So I disappeared. I took a five-year, off-grid research position and cut all ties. When he finally tracked me down, begging me to name my price, I faced him through the sterile glass of the facility and gave him my final answer. "We' re done."

Jilted Heiress: Her Reign Has Begun

My fiancé, Fremont, was caught with his pregnant mistress, but our families' decade-long alliance meant I was expected to endure the humiliation. He demanded I invite her to my parents' memorial gala. When I refused, he stabbed my hand with a knife and canceled the event entirely. He then locked me in my parents' desecrated penthouse, announced his engagement to her, and planned to have me publicly disowned at the shareholder meeting where he would be crowned CEO. He called my family's legacy "junk" and left me bleeding on the floor to answer his mistress's call. He thought he had broken me. He was a fool. At the meeting, our lawyer revealed the truth: I held the controlling 51% of the company, and the CEO had to be my husband. Suddenly, all eyes were on me. And I was ready to make my choice.

Claimed By My Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle

I was the "perfect" fiancée for Harrison Vincent—regal, silent, and low-maintenance. For two years, I suppressed my career as a forensic accountant to be the "safe" choice that polled well with his family’s shareholders. But at a high-society gala, I found him in a VIP lounge with a socialite wrapped around him. He told her I was just a "boring art piece display stand" he had to drag around until his trust fund was unlocked. I didn't scream or make a scene. I mentally filed a "bad debt" report, tossed my emerald engagement ring into a glass of stale champagne, and walked out of his life. That same night, I found myself in a dark jazz club bathroom, using a strip of my velvet dress to stop the bleeding of a mysterious man with a gunshot wound and eyes like grey flint. The fallout was immediate. Harrison blocked my credit cards, assuming I’d crawl back once I couldn't afford rent. His mother called me a "nobody" while simultaneously begging me to handle the family's medical emergencies because they were too panicked to function. They treated me like a tool they could discard and pick up at will, never realizing I had already moved my things into a cramped Brooklyn apartment. I couldn't understand why they thought I was still their puppet, or why a black Maybach began following me through the city streets. I had saved a stranger's life and ended a toxic engagement, yet the air around me felt heavier and more dangerous than ever. The truth came out at the hospital when the most feared man in the city stepped out of the shadows. It was the man from the bathroom—Collis Vincent, the ruthless head of the family. He didn't just humiliate Harrison; he took my hand in front of everyone and made a chilling declaration. "Harrison is a fool to have let you go, Helena. Your arrangement with him is terminated. From now on, you'll be working with me."

The White Wolf He Threw Away Returns As Luna

On my eighteenth birthday, the Moon Goddess finally revealed my fated mate. It was Marcus, the Alpha heir who had saved me from the wreckage of my life when I was a child. I thought this was my fairy tale ending. But as I reached for him, trembling with adoration, he didn't pull me into his arms. He looked at me with eyes cold as ice. "You are an Omega, Ellie," he said, his voice flat. "You have no strength. The pack needs a Luna who can lead, not a charity case I picked up from the mud." He didn't just reject me. He used the Alpha Command to force me to snap the bond myself, tearing my soul in half. Then, he banished me. He threw me out into the rain with nothing but the clothes on my back, convinced I was worthless garbage. But Marcus made a fatal mistake. He didn't know that my "weakness" was actually the dormant power of the legendary White Wolf. And he certainly didn't know that when he kicked me out, I was already pregnant with the very heir he was so desperate to secure. Four years later, I returned to his territory. I wasn't the shivering girl he threw away anymore. I was the Luna of the most powerful pack in the region, standing beside a man who worshipped the ground I walked on. And the little boy holding my hand? He had silver hair and Marcus's eyes. When Marcus saw us, he fell to his knees, begging for a second chance. I looked down at him and smiled. "I accept your rejection, Alpha."

Seven Years of Lies, My Vengeful Return

For seven years, I worked as a crime scene cleaner, scrubbing away death to save my son' s life. I finally earned the $250,000 for the experimental treatment that would cure his rare genetic disorder. But when I arrived at the hospital, I overheard my boyfriend, Brad, talking. It wasn't about a cure. It was a "social experiment," a seven-year test to prove I wasn't a gold digger. My son was never sick. My best friend was in on it, laughing. Then I heard my son' s voice. "I don't want smelly Mommy to come back. I want Aunt Jaime. She smells like cookies." They humiliated me at his school, calling me a mentally unstable cleaning lady. My son pointed at me and told everyone he didn't know me, while the man I loved dragged me away, accusing me of being a disgrace. My love wasn't love; it was data. My sacrifice wasn't a sacrifice; it was a performance. They had turned my own child against me for their sick game. They thought they were testing a poor, simple cleaner. They didn't know he was Bradford Yates, heir to a billion-dollar dynasty. And they had no idea I was Alyssa Dyer of the Dalton family. I picked up the phone and called my brother. "I'm coming home."

Marrying A Secret Zillionaire: Happy Ever After

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

The Scars She Hid From The World

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen

Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her. On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back. Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city. Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him. "I'm sorry. Please give me another chance." She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married."

Revealing My Secret Identities! My Bros Are Speechless!

For seventeen years, I was the crown jewel of the Kensington empire, the perfect daughter groomed for a royal future. Then, a cream-colored envelope landed in my lap, bearing a gold crest and a truth that turned my world into ice. The DNA test result was a cold, hard zero percent-I wasn't a Kensington. Before the ink could even dry, my parents invited my replacement, a girl named Alleen, into the drawing room and treated me like a trespasser in my own home. My mother, who once hosted galas in my honor, wouldn't even look me in the eye as she stroked Alleen's arm, whispering that she was finally "safe." My father handed me a one-million-dollar check-a mere tip for a billionaire-and told me to leave immediately to avoid tanking the company's stock price. "You're a thief! You lived my life, you spent my money, and you don't get to keep the loot!" Alleen shrieked, trying to claw the designer jacket off my shoulders while my "parents" watched with clinical detachment. I was dumped on a gritty sidewalk in Queens with nothing but three trunks and the address of a struggling laborer I was now supposed to call "Dad." I traded a marble mansion for a crumbling walk-up where the air smelled of exhaust and my new bedroom was a literal storage closet. My biological family thought I was a broken princess, and the Kensingtons thought they had successfully erased me with a payoff and a non-disclosure agreement. They had no idea that while I was hauling trunks up four flights of stairs, my secret media empire was already preparing to move against them. As I sat on a thin mattress in the dark, I opened my encrypted laptop and sent a single command that would cost my former father ten million dollars by breakfast. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves, but they forgot one thing: I'm the one who leads the pack.